


habitual

by nocturnes



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alcohol, Best Man, Future Fic, Heartbreak, M/M, RPF, Unrequited Love, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnes/pseuds/nocturnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaejoong is Yoochun's best man. Future!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	habitual

“All set.”

Jaejoong moves his hands away from where they had been adjusting Yoochun’s bowtie around his neck. The shade of red matches with his groomsmen’s ties, and his tux hugs his body perfectly, even if he’s still far too thin at thirty-five. Jaejoong had spent what he remembers as several sunless weeks poring over fabric patches to find the perfect colour. All in a day’s work for the best man.

“Thanks,” Yoochun says, and he smiles just as charmingly as he had at twenty-two. Sometimes when he catches Jaejoong off guard, the sight of it still makes his breath catch in his throat.

Jaejoong takes in Yoochun’s twitching hands, the way his teeth press into the swell of his bottom lip.

“No time for a smoke,” he says, even as he reaches for the box of Marlboros tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“For old time’s sake?” The grin is back, and Jaejoong feels any intent he had to refuse the request dying on his tongue. He will never say no. Not to Yoochun.

\--

Night arrives too quickly at the end November. Beneath the hotel roof the streets of Seoul are just beginning to burst with life. Sometimes Jaejoong misses the feeling of being part of that crowd: alcohol burning its way down his throat as he sits in a cramped booth at the back of a bar, friends pressing in so close that he can feel the heat rolling off them in waves.

Stop running if you can’t keep up. Aging does not agree with him.

He sneaks a glance at Yoochun, watching the way his lips wrap around the end of his cigarette as he takes a drag, the way it’s cradled between two of his fingers. It’s a habit both of them have tried and failed to quit over the years.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jaejoong asks. Yoochun pauses for a moment, then throws away the rest of his cigarette.

“Scared shitless.”

“Of what?” Jaejoong asks even though he knows, because this has been bubbling under the surface of Yoochun’s skin for weeks, years if he is counting seriously.

“Of… God, Jaejoong. What if I fuck it all up?” He runs his hands through his hair, messing up the careful styling Jaejoong had done twenty minutes before. Yoochun has held the same worry since the age of sixteen.

“You won’t,” Jaejoong says, “just by virtue of the fact that you’ll work your ass off to fix anything that goes wrong. Don’t sweat it, okay? Take things day by day. No sense in panicking before anything even happens.”

Yoochun laugh sounds strangled, a little hysterical. “What would I do without you?”

“Mourn your lack of access to cigarettes, since I have been your sole supplier for the last six months.” He doesn’t bother with a serious answer, because he doesn’t want to slip and say something he shouldn’t. Can’t.

Yoochun skips the reply, instead staring out at the city until his eyes become unfocused. Twenty-six floors above the concrete, and he still feels too close to hitting the ground. 

Jaejoong glances at the way Yoochun’s side profile is drawn into relief by the light thrown off the building next to them: the width of his forehead, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. By now he is an expert at not looking too long. He closes his eyes and recalls another night, another rooftop.

“Thank you,” Yoochun says, so genuine that Jaejoong feels his heart clench even though he swore he had snuffed out that kind of reaction before he turned twenty-five.

“What are best friends for?”

Yoochun squeezes Jaejoong’s shoulder before moving back toward the stairwell. “Coming? I guess we should get going.”

“Yeah, just a minute,” Jaejoong says. “I’ll finish this cigarette and be right down. See you in the lobby in five?” He barely catches Yoochun’s nod before he disappears from view.

Jaejoong takes one last drag, as deep as he can. He closes his eyes and feels the wind swirl around him, taking the light of the city with it until he can imagine a glow hidden underneath his skin, strengthening him in the same way stage lights used to. He lets out the breath all at once before opening his eyes and shaking out his shoulders.

He walks to the stairs to follow Yoochun. Just like he always has.

\--

Jaejoong sticks hot to Yoochun’s heels as they stumble out onto the roof of their Japanese apartment building. Yunho will threaten them with extra rehearsal time in the morning when he finds out what they have been doing, but Jaejoong can’t be bothered to care right now. Not when Yoochun is stumbling towards him on unsteady feet and when he has his hand wrapped around a bottle of whisky, now three-quarters empty. Yoochun had drunk most of it—the bottle had been Jaejoong’s birthday gift to him.

“Happy birthday to me,” Yoochun half sings, half slurs before he tumbles forward into Jaejoong. Jaejoong has enough control left to break Yoochun’s fall awkwardly with an arm twisted at an angle against his chest. He feels Yoochun’s skin hot against his and lets go just as quickly. Too much proximity makes it hard to breathe.

“Happy birthday to you,” Jaejoong says, and he smiles when Yoochun starts spinning in circles, carefree and utterly ridiculous.

Yoochun stops and Jaejoong’s head reels as he watches him try to find his balance. He steps too close to Jaejoong, right up in his face, and Jaejoong sets the whisky down on instinct, readying himself to catch Yoochun should he trip again.

“Guess what I wished for when I blew out my candles,” Yoochun says. His breath smells like stale alcohol. Jaejoong decides to play along.

“What?” Yoochun is so close that trying to look at his face makes Jaejoong dizzy. He can’t stop looking at Yoochun’s mouth moving around words as he talks, and he almost doesn’t register what Yoochun says next.

“A birthday kiss,” Yoochun says, and Jaejoong is halfway to asking him to repeat that when Yoochun presses his mouth to his, cutting off the words before they can reach the end of his tongue.

Jaejoong stands there frozen and counts to five, hoping that Yoochun will pull back soon, because he can’t have let this happen, he knows this is just because Yoochun is lonely and he can’t—

Then Yoochun shifts his mouth against his, pulling Jaejoong’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting down softly until Jaejoong feels sparks flood his body all the way to his toes. He feels his control slipping away to sit next to the bottle of alcohol at his feet.

Every moment he glanced too long, every time he woke up sticky underneath his sheets from a dream he couldn’t quite remember comes flashing back to him, and he can’t help but wrap his arms around Yoochun’s neck and kiss him back.

When Yoochun licks at his bottom lip, sloppy but determined, Jaejoong opens his mouth to let his tongue slide against his. It’s too messy to be perfect, but it’s warm and wet and _Yoochun_ , so Jaejoong doesn’t care. He moans into Yoochun’s mouth before Yoochun pulls away all too abruptly.

Jaejoong wants to ask what happened, but he doesn’t when he sees a proud grin spread over Yoochun’s face. He wonders if Yoochun will even remember this in the morning, but he doubts it, if the blown look on his face after just a kiss is anything to go by. He looks gorgeous like this, more than usual. Jaejoong takes in his slightly swollen lips and just wants to kiss him again.

He sighs instead. “C’mon,” he says, “let’s get back downstairs before Yunho has our heads for staying out too late.”

Yoochun stumbles after him without protest, giggly and happy.

Jaejoong doesn’t look back at him, because he doesn’t think he can.

\--

Eunmi practically glides down the aisle towards Yoochun. The diaphanous skirt of her white ball gown makes her look as though she floats a few inches from the ground.

Jaejoong had introduced her to Yoochun at a company party a few years back, and that, he thinks, had been the ultimate irony. He hadn’t expected Yoochun to fall so hard that he wouldn’t even look for a way to climb back to the surface.

Eunmi must look beautiful, Jaejoong knows, or at least he thinks he should, because Yoochun adores her. Jaejoong isn’t looking at her.

Yoochun’s face is alight with happiness as he takes in Eunmi walking down the aisle. She embodies all that he had ever wished for: beauty, grace, charm, and filial loyalty.

Jaejoong bites his lip and hopes that whoever is filming the wedding will focus on Eunmi and not on Yoochun, because it must be obvious where he’s looking. Where he has always been looking. He doesn’t fail to notice that Yoochun had never looked this happy any time the two of them were together. He can’t let himself think about that, so he zones out through most of the ceremony, instead thinking of Yoochun and alcohol and lips wrapped tight around the ends of cigarettes.

Yoochun’s voice rumbles low through the vows, thick with emotion that makes Jaejoong’s heart catch in his throat. He pulls the ring box from his pocket, hands it to Yoochun, and watches as he slides the ring onto Eunmi’s finger. Finality. Sometimes Jaejoong likes to pretend that it hadn’t all been going nowhere from the start.

Jaejoong looks away when they kiss and he walks up the aisle in a daze. He wonders if he will have to drink a third of his weight in alcohol to get through the reception. The idea sounds pretty good right now, especially with the prospect of having to read the speech currently crumpled in his jacket pocket. At least staging an image has been his specialty for over half of his life now.

Yoochun and Eunmi climb into the waiting limo. Jaejoong knows how Yoochun will kiss her, deep and searching now that they are away from everyone’s watchful gaze. Yoochun’s hand would slide up her leg and caress her thigh underneath her dress. Jaejoong cuts the thought off there, because when he starts thinking about it too much his vision starts to swim.

The limo drives away to the cheers of the crowd. Jaejoong doesn’t look up, instead digging his fingernails into his palms until he’s sure he has broken the skin.

He pictures a rooftop, the smell of smoke and the echo of the city around him. The daydream doesn’t feel quite so real anymore, but it helps.

Some habits are hard to kick.


End file.
